Review: The BFG

The BFG (PG)

USA 2016 117 mins Dir: Steven Spielberg Cast: Mark Rylance, Ruby Barnhill, Penelope Wilton, Rebecca Hall, Jemaine Clement, Bill Hader, Rafe Spall

Beloved author Roald Dahl’s stories are many things, but predictable certainly isn’t one of them. Mixing the sentimental with the grotesque and a distinct sense of affection towards his youthful child protagonists with an often horrific sense of darkness, Dahl’s stories are often episodic and distinctly eccentric, a mixture of British deadpan humour and Scandinavian bleakness; little wonder their charms have endured across the generations.

Bottling the essence of Dahl has also proved a challenge to filmmakers with the author often reacting vociferously to an adaptation he hated (Dahl reserved a special place in hell for 1971’s Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory starring Gene Wilder). The world of Dahl on-screen often works best when it’s merged with a filmmaker whose sensibility matches the author’s quirky outlook, Danny DeVito’s 1996 take on Matilda or Wes Anderson’s 2009 offering Fantastic Mr. Fox being notable highlights.

Now Steven Spielberg takes his turn with his long-gestating passion project The BFG. It’s perhaps not as natural a fit as it seems, Dahl’s nuanced complexities often at odds with Spielberg’s wholesome sense of warmth. But although Spielberg doesn’t get everything right, his and late E.T. screenwriter Melissa Mathison’s affection for the author’s legacy richly shines through in every frame.

Absolutely pivotal to the film’s success is the central duo of Mark Rylance as the eponymous Big Friendly Giant and newcomer Ruby Barnhill as orphan Sophie, the most unlikely of friendships sprinkled with that characteristic sense of Spielberg compassion and wide-eyed wonder. When plucky Sophie is indeed plucked from her orphanage during the “witching hour” by the BFG and whisked off to his home in Giant Country, a bond steadily develops between these two kindly yet lonely souls. The former’s job is to capture dreams that he then infuses into sleeping child’s minds – but not all the towering specimens of Giant Country are friendly as the bullying likes of Fleshlumpeater (Jemaine Clement) make clear.

The BFG himself is a wonderful creation: working with Peter Jackson’s WETA digital effects company and Oscar-winner Rylance’s joyously expressive features and West Country burr, Spielberg is able to transform the character from impassive collection of pixels into the sort of living, breathing delight that dreams are made of. One can palpably sense the fun stage veteran Rylance is having getting his vowels around Dahl’s whizzpopping, scrumdiddlyumptious language, mining a rich vein of humour in the process. Credit also to young Barnhill for selling their friendship with absolute conviction, Spielberg cannily characteristically discreet yet impactful camera shots luring us into Sophie’s point-of-view during her initial journey to Giant Country.

It’s this central partnership that both grounds the fantastical narrative and also sustains it through occasional dull patches; Rylance and Barnhill both expertly flit between childlike wonder (as in the visually extraordinary, Avatar-esque dream catching sequence) and gentle melancholy (one shot where she reaches out a hand and he a giant finger in response is truly lovely). Augmented by the finest craftsmanship Hollywood can buy, from Janusz Kaminski’s luminescent cinematography to a featherweight John Williams score whose lilting flute solos glide and soar in the manner of the film’s elusive dreams, it’s an entertainment whose pleasures are enjoyably visceral.

Yet while Spielberg is pleasingly faithful to both the lighter shades of Dahl’s story and also its quirky aspects (he’s surprisingly loyal to the low-brow yet hilarious Frobscottle farting set-piece in Buckingham Palace late on, featuring a scene-stealing Penelope Wilton as the Queen), he unexpectedly tones down the tougher aspects. With the narrative’s villainous contingent downplayed from carnivorous horrors (as seen in the beloved 1989 animation) into shambling, comical bullies, the film ultimately lacks the dramatic impetus and sense of threat that would have pushed it to greater heights, a peculiar absence given Spielberg’s ability to infuse horror into blockbuster properties like Jaws, Indiana Jones and Jurassic Park.

Nevertheless, for all of the movie’s toothless simplicity and lack of narrative drive (problems that prevent it from reaching upper-tier Spielberg), it’s the chemistry between Rylance and Barnhill that makes everything click. An expert fusion of the fantastical and the humane, make-believe and live action, the chemistry between these two fabulous actors tempers the overly slick Hollywood approach with a genuine sense of intimacy and charm.